


Hold Close Your Heart and Take the Leap

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Minor Angst, Mpreg, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: Draco knows he needs to tell Potter their lives are about to change forever. But ‘knowing’ and ‘doing’ are two very different things.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 69
Kudos: 1445
Collections: HD Mpreg 2020





	Hold Close Your Heart and Take the Leap

**Author's Note:**

> All my love and thanks to the wonderful, extremely patient and most amazing Annaled who saw this through. I would be lost without you, darling. Thank you for being a constant source of strength and joy! Dear prompter, I hope you enjoy this. Thank you mods, for your patience and all the extensions. You’re all stars!

“Now, this might feel a bit uncomfortable. Just try to relax and don’t push back if you can help it.”

Draco suppressed an anticipatory wince as the diagnostic spell washed over him. It left a tell-tale prickle, like Muggle electricity sparking across his skin. He could almost map its trajectory, following its trail as it poked and prodded at his insides. He kept still through it, affecting a bored expression to mask his discomfort. The last thing he needed was to be accused of being some sort of Drama Queen.

Although, in all fairness, he probably deserved at least part of the blame for his reputation. In hindsight, he _had_ milked that incident with the hippogriff for all it was worth.

Sometimes, Draco really wished he had a Time Turner. There was no dearth of things he would do differently if given the chance, but dealing his thirteen-year-old self a swift kick in the arse definitely made the top five.

“Well.”

Pomfrey’s delicate cough brought him back to the present. Oh good, it was almost over. Draco sat up, wincing a bit as his stomach spasmed again. It was nothing he couldn’t handle but the discomfort was persistent enough to concern him at this point. It had started a couple weeks ago. He’d hoped that it would subside on its own but when it didn’t...well, he didn’t want to sound paranoid but the possibility of someone tampering with his meals couldn’t be ruled out. His return to Hogwarts for the Eighth Year had been greeted with a marked lack of hostility so far — thanks in large part to a strongly worded speech by Headmistress McGonagall (and Merlin, didn’t that still sound strange) — but that didn’t mean all was forgiven.

In fact, most of his fellow Slytherins had taken the coward’s way out and refused to attend altogether. He hadn’t, though. For reasons that remained a mystery to him, Draco felt obligated to return to the school he’d betrayed. And on most days, he didn’t regret his foolhardy decision. With every cautious nod from Longbottom, every awkward almost-a-conversation with the Patil twins, every study group session with Granger and whoever else still cared about their NEWTS at this point, things were slowly sliding back into some semblance of normal. It was...good, against all odds. It was what he needed.

Now though, faced with the possibility of _poisoning by treacle tart_ , he wondered if he’d made the right decision after all.

“Mr Malfoy.”

Draco frowned as Pomfrey visibly struggled for words. He’d never known the mediwitch to be anything but efficiency incarnate. The silence grew tense and his insides twisted.

_Fuck._

So he was right after all.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” he muttered.

Would he need a bezoar for this? Did they even have any in the Infirmary? Would he need to go to St Mungo’s?

_Fuck. Shit. Fuck._

Pomfrey pursed her lips. “I...suppose that depends on how you feel about it.”

“How I...what?” Draco gaped at her incredulously. “How am I supposed to feel about poisoning? In case it’s unclear, I’m not exactly thrilled.”

NEWTS were coming up. He had a study group _tonight._ He didn’t have time for this!

Also, he didn’t want to die.

Pomfrey blinked. “You’ve not been poisoned, Mr Malfoy,” she replied calmly.”If anything, you’re in perfect health.”

She was doing that thing. That soothing, pacifying thing Healers did when they had bad news but also wanted to cushion the blow. Draco was neither soothed nor pacified. His stomach spasmed again and it made him want to jump up and demand answers at wand-point.

Somehow, he doubted that would go down well with the Headmistress.

“What’s wrong with me?” he demanded instead. “Why…”

Pomfrey held up a finger to silence him. She was skimming through a Healer’s tome now, nodding to herself and occasionally giving him a scrutinising glance. Draco’s unease just tripled. In all his visits to the Hospital Wing — and there were many — he’d never known Pomfrey to ever require a reference book. Whatever this was...well, he wasn’t going to get any answers until she was done, was he?

So he bit his tongue, clenched his fists into the bedlinen and waited _patiently_ for the verdict.

“Mr Mal...Draco.” The switch to his first name just made it worse. It was another Healer thing, another useless platitude for Merlin-only-knows-what. His grip on the sheet tightened. He braced himself, preparing for the absolute worst because at this point, what else could it be?

“I’m afraid I have to ask. How long have you been...sexually active?”

Silence.

Draco’s rambling, panicking thoughts came to a screeching standstill. He gaped, shocked into silence, as his mind wrapped around the absurd, horrifying reality of being asked _that_ by a woman who’d once scolded him for eating so many Bertie Bott’s Beans, he’d needed a Double Strength Stomach Settling Draught. A mortified blush crept up his neck and the lie was out before he knew it.

“No.”

Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. “Draco...”

“I’m not,” Draco blurted on panicked instinct. He was _not_ discussing that with...fuck it, he would _rather_ die. “Never. I read a book once but only because Blaise made me! I haven’t. I _didn’t.”_

“I see.” The Mediwitch crossed her arms and gave him a flat look. “In that case, there’s a nice Muggle gentleman at the Vatican who would probably like a word with you.”

_What?!_

“There is no easy way to say this, I’m afraid.” She sighed and her eyes softened a little. “You’re pregnant.”

Preg…

_Shit._

Draco’s world tilted on its axis. The room swam before his eyes. He was only vaguely aware of a firm hand on his shoulder and a soothing voice telling him to breathe. Then a vial was being pressed into his hands and he downed it without thinking twice. The grassy taste of Calming Draught hit his throat and his vision cleared immediately.

Not that it mattered. His life was over.

“Now now,” Pomfrey soothed, patting his back gently. “No need to make such a fuss, Mr Malfoy. Really, the way you carry on sometimes…”

Oh, great. Branded a Drama Queen again.

Draco would have laughed if it didn’t feel like his throat was seizing up and closing in on itself.

“...hardly the first pregnant man in wizard history, are you?” Pomfrey’s voice was drifting in and out of focus. Draco took a shaky, stuttering breath and rallied to pay attention. If this was happening to him, he probably needed all the facts. “I know it’s rare and you were obviously not expecting this, but there’s nothing to fret over just yet. Why, you’re only six weeks along.”

Six _weeks?_

“We only…” Draco shook his head and struggled for words. “It was just a few times.”

The embarrassment of actually admitting it was a secondary concern now. He swallowed against a lump in his throat and cautiously pressed a hand to his torso. There was a...a _person_ inside him. If he was going to focus on anything right now, it was very much _that_ part.

“Well, a few times is all it takes. I don’t suppose either of you considered protection spells?” Her tone took on a maternal disapproving quality and Draco hunched into himself. He must have looked pretty miserable because her eyes softened and she gave him a reassuring pat. “What’s done is done. You need to focus on yourself now. Stress won’t do you or the baby any favours.”

_Baby._

His insides roiled. What was he going to do? How would he tell his parents? How would he tell…

No. Surely, there was another way. He _couldn’t_ be out of options just yet.

“Is there a...potion I could take?” he asked quietly. “A draught or...Muggles have those pill things, don’t they?”

Pomfrey’s eyes clouded over and Draco looked away as a sudden rush of guilt overcame him. Why did he feel so awful anyway? It’s not like he asked for this! Anyone in his position would consider...and he was only six weeks in, it wasn’t even an _actual_ baby yet.

Was it?

“There are options, of course,” Pomfrey said. If she disapproved, she was careful not to show it. “I have some leaflets in my files, I’ll make a package for you to...think things over.”

“I don’t need to think,” Draco muttered. “Just give me a potion so I can be done with it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” She sighed and shook her head as he opened his mouth to argue. “Mr Malfoy, you’ve suffered a massive shock. You’re obviously distraught and while I sympathise, as your Healer, I cannot endorse any medication until you’re emotionally stable. This decision is life altering and not to be taken lightly. _However_ ,” she raised her voice slightly as Draco started to protest again, “if you promise to go through the information package and have a good think on things, I will most assuredly honour your choice in the matter. Whatever it may be.”

She handed him a sheaf of parchment and Draco snatched it up with bad grace. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And...and I don’t care _what_ you say, I’m taking care of this one way or another.”

“Very well.”

Neither of them moved an inch. Draco swallowed around the tight lump in his throat. How did he get himself into these messes? Why was it _always_ him, and why was he always alone?

Because he would be alone in this, he knew he would.

“Are you going to tell the father?” Pomfrey asked softly. “The...other father.”

“No.” He sniffled slightly and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “He’s not...we’re...he’s an idiot.”

Pomfrey tutted. “Aren’t they all?”

That, for some reason, pulled a weak chuckle from him. Draco’s hand drifted to his stomach again. Merlin, what a day…

“I know it’s not my business,” Pomfrey said in the ensuing silence, “but there are two of you in this. All I’m saying is, a calm, rational discussion with your partner might help.”

Draco nearly snorted. If there were ever two people less suited to a ‘calm, rational discussion’...

“I’ll think about it,” he lied anyway. What was the point in fighting her and drawing it out? Tomorrow, he would get this mess sorted and after that, it would be like none of it had ever happened. He nodded to himself, collected the pamphlets and headed towards the staircase.

“Just a moment, Mr Malfoy.”

Pomfrey pressed something into his hand. Draco stared, nonplussed and confused, at the innocuous little Bean sitting in his palm.

“I’m not trying to influence your decision,” Pomfrey said, with a faint smile, “But I thought you’d like to know. That’s about the size of your baby right now.”

Oh.

Draco’s fist clenched around the bean and he nodded tightly.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he mumbled, turning away before she could say anything else. And with that, he fled the Hospital Wing, not daring to look back.

* * *

_You are not alone!_

_Dos and Donts for your First Trimester._

_Cravings: What is your body trying to tell you?_

Draco groaned and stuffed the last of the pamphlets into a satchel before throwing it to the far end of the Boy’s Dorm. He fell back on his bed with a sigh, wondering why he was so tired. Was it the baby? The shock? Or was it because the bloody pamphlets had assured him it was _normal_ and _to be expected?_

Draco’s lip curled. Nothing about this was _normal._ He hadn’t had ‘normal’ since...honestly, he couldn’t remember. Third Year? Right, the year they’d had Dementors stalking the grounds, an escaped convict on the loose and a werewolf teaching DADA. It almost sounded mundane in retrospect, now that he had _this_ to deal with.

“Can’t fault you for timing,” he muttered, absently drifting a hand over his stomach. Now that he thought about it, he could detect a barely perceptible curve under his touch. How had it escaped his notice before? He was usually so on top of things.

“Sneaky,” he murmured, his lips twitching in a faint smile. “You would’ve made a good Slytherin.”

For some absurd reason, his throat clenched at the thought. Draco cursed and rubbed his eyes viciously. For Salazar’s sake! He needed to stop doing this. He’d made his decision. Come tomorrow, this would be over. And if he kept talking to it like an insane person…if he got stupidly attached to it...

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Pomfrey had a point though. He needed to get a handle on himself. How would he go through with this if he kept welling up like a ninny? And for what? She said it herself — the bab- _it_ was the size of a bean. It wasn’t real yet. It didn’t have feelings or a name or...anything.

His eyes prickled again and now it was just irritating. He was being stupid. _Stupid._ This was the right decision. He was _seventeen._ He didn’t have the emotional maturity to raise a child! And even if he could get past that hurdle, there was the family name that could scarcely afford any more tarnish to think of. And his parents...oh Salazar, what would they say? They would balk at a child born out of wedlock. At the very least, they would insist on marriage. And how was he supposed to manage that?

Maybe it would be different if he were in an actual relationship or...something. But he wasn’t. And the thought of explaining _friends with benefits_ to Lucius made his insides shrivel.

There were reasons, _countless_ reasons, to give up this child. And he knew it. He knew it was the sound, sensible thing to do.

Then why, Draco wondered bitterly, was it so damned difficult? Why was he holed up in an empty dormitory, on the verge of a breakdown, while the rest of the Eighth Years traipsed through Hogsmeade?

Wasn’t this supposed to be the easy way?

His gaze drifted downwards. He opened his palm slowly. The Bean, pink and cheerful, sat there. Strawberry. Draco smiled, despite his morbid musings. He’d always liked the strawberry ones best. And mint and seabreeze. Would his...his baby have liked them too? Or would he — or she — have taken after...'him' instead? Rooting through the bag, determined to find the most obnoxious flavours — the cinnamons and the watermelons and the rainwaters?

“Oh Merlin.”

He flopped down on his bed with a groan. His hand shifted back to his stomach, more habit than anything. Draco huffed a tired laugh.

“I’m keeping you, aren’t I?”

And there it was. Potentially, the worst decision he’d ever made. And yet, lying in a four poster bed in a school he had yet to graduate from, surrounded by pamphlets and a single strawberry bean, Draco felt nothing but relief. His heart felt lighter, like it had been unburdened. Somehow, in that moment, he just knew that no matter what came his way, he would _never_ regret this.

Yes, Father would rage (thankfully, behind bars) and Mother would fret and write long, tearful letters. People would judge him, far more than they already did. His plans for the future would have to wait, his life would never be the same, everything was going to get _so much harder_. All of his fears were suddenly realised and there was nothing to do but deal with them.

But he’d been wrong about one thing.

He wasn’t alone. He would never be alone again.

“We’re going to get through this,” he promised softly. If he didn’t know better, he would swear he felt a little flutter under his fingertips. He chuckled softly and resumed his petting. “I’ll figure it out, I promise. Whatever happens, it will always be you and me.”

And that was that. Decision made. For better or worse.

His eyes fluttered shut. The exhaustion took him over and he curled into the covers. Tomorrow, he reflected tiredly, was going to be...eventful. Pomfrey would be expecting him and he could only hope she meant what she said about helping him. He- _they_ needed all the help they could get.

And...there was another matter. Now that he’d made his choice, he couldn’t put it off any longer. As much as he dreaded the conversation, the truth was this child had two fathers.

It had to be done.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured, as he drifted off. “We’ll tell Potter tomorrow.”

* * *

He needn’t have worried about Pomfrey.

She was up and about when Draco stole out of the dorm in the early hours of morning and — even though she was careful not to ‘influence’ him — he knew his decision had gladdened her. Or at least, that’s what the bag of Bertie Bott’s Beans that she’d snuck in with his prenatal potions seemed to suggest. It was a small gesture and one that he was immensely thankful for.

At least, someone was on his side.

As he made his way back to the Eighth Year Quarters, suffering a wary glance from a gaggle of Ravenclaw Third Years, he was reminded of how little support he could expect through this whole...thing. He had the better quarter of a year left at Hogwarts and he would most certainly start to show by then. Soon, those looks and glances would turn to whispers. Nudges and discreet side-eyes. If the scrutiny didn’t drive him mad, the rumours certainly would.

He reminded himself that it didn’t matter. _Nothing_ mattered now except for the baby growing inside him. But it didn’t make him feel any less weary. He was facing an uphill battle on all fronts, and it started today. Pomfrey hadn’t minced words with him.

 _I’ll expect a visit in two weeks, Mr Malfoy. From_ both _of you._

Salazar.

His footsteps faltered slightly. Last night, he’d resolved to come clean to Potter. And he still intended to, he _did._ He just...didn’t know how.

Not for the first time, he wondered why he’d allowed himself to fall into this situation with his former nemesis. He’d been seeking normalcy this year, that was why he’d returned to Hogwarts. He’d needed the comfort of the mundane and ordinary. And he knew for a fact that Potter needed the same thing. They’d even managed it the first few weeks. Despite sharing a dorm and several classes, they’d skillfully skirted around each other, never exchanging more than short pleasantries and terse nods.

Then one night — and for the life of him, he would never understand how exactly — they’d fallen into each other. The exact sequence was a blur to him. All he remembered was that Charms Class was cancelled that day because a Fire Salamander got loose in the classroom. He was heading to the library when Potter caught up to him, claiming boredom and asking for a quick game of Seeker’s Tag. One game turned into five. Awkward small talk turned into banter and playful taunts. And then at some point, he’d ended up in a broom closet with Potter’s lips on his neck and his hand wrapped firm around his cock.

Maybe, Draco reflected with bemusement, he wouldn’t be in this mess if they’d just stuck to broom closets. But since Potter was resourceful enough to rediscover the Room of Requirement and supply a very comfortable and surprisingly resilient bed…

They never really talked about it, and maybe that was Draco’s fault. Potter had tried in the beginning — in that clumsy, determined way of his. An invite to Hogsmeade. Another game of Seeker’s Tag. Did Draco want to take a walk sometime? Maybe they could do that Potions essay together.

Draco declined every single time and it wasn’t easy. As hard as it was to admit, he’d wanted Potter’s friendship right from Day One. And now, coming out from the wrong side of the War — with an uncertain future and a past that would only hold him back — it made sense to curry favour with the right people. Honestly, who better than Potter? The Saviour. The Boy Who Lived Twice. Potter was unassailable now, an undisputed hero no one would dare to question — even if he refused to act like it. To be counted among his friends, even his close acquaintances...it would make all the difference to someone like him.

Still, he shied from the overtures. What he had with Potter, this thing they’d been doing...it was too complicated. When he thought about their history and what they’d put each other through — it went far beyond Potter’s broken nose and the slashes of scars across his own chest. Just a year ago, they’d been out to actively hurt each other in the worst ways. One didn’t just get over that. And even if Potter was trying, even if he was sincere in his intent...well. At best, he was trying to assuage his own guilt. At worst, he was blowing off some steam like he undoubtedly felt he deserved to. Draco was just one more unresolved matter to him, one more thing to put to rest.

And if he allowed himself to get pulled in by warm smiles and soft touches — far more devastating than the heady rush of hot skin and clever tongues and possessive hands gripping at his thighs — he knew he would be lost. In the light of day, it was just too good to last. He needed to remember that and so did Potter.

Eventually, Potter did seem to get the hint. The invites stopped, the small talk petered out. Potter made himself scarce during the study group and Draco made sure to avoid the Quidditch Pitch. They didn’t talk outside of class, they kept their distance in the hall, even the glances they shared were quick and fleeting. And if they still allowed themselves the occasional indulgence of the Room of Requirement, that was fine. It wasn’t real, after all. So what did a few moments of weakness matter?

_Ask a stupid question..._

Draco scoffed and leaned against a wall, trying to get his twisting insides to settle. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous. How was he going to break the news to Potter? And even if he managed to get the words out, how would Potter take it? Would he be upset? Angry? Or...maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe this baby wouldn’t mean a thing to him. And why would it when…

The thought was depressing enough to take the wind out of his sails. It was one thing for Potter to be upset but the idea of him _rejecting_ the frail, innocent life growing inside him altogether...it was almost unbearable.

_Maybe I shouldn’t tell him._

His determination wavered in the face of this new fear. The temptation of turning tail and running was so strong...but no. No. This wasn’t about him, it was about the baby. The baby who would most definitely be here in less than eight months and if Potter didn’t know now, he certainly would then. Although, given how oblivious the prat was, there was a good chance Draco could just _hide_ the baby until... _no._ Enough, already! He was telling Potter. He was telling Potter as soon as he found him. And he knew exactly what he was going to say.

_Potter, we need to talk. I’m pregnant. It’s yours. You should know that I’m keeping it. I don’t expect anything from you and if you don’t want anything to do with it, I understand._

Simple. Clear. To the point. Even Potter had to get it.

He could do this.

Now all he had to do was find Potter.

Draco rounded the corner, taking the staircase to the newly formed Eighth Year quarters. For the first time, he was thankful they were sequestered in one of the towers and not the dungeons. He still had a lot to learn about babies but he was reasonably sure they needed sunlight and fresh air. Or was that plants? He really needed to read those books Pomfrey had given him…

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he barely noticed the portrait shifting at the entrance. It wasn’t until Potter ran smack bang into him that he looked up with a surprised yelp.

“Malfoy!”

Potter grabbed him before he could fall flat on his arse. Draco’s heart lurched as he stumbled and then he was staring into concerned, green eyes.

Potter. Potter was here.

_Shite._

“Are you okay?” Potter was asking, one hand still bracing his waist. “I didn’t see…”

Draco sprang out of his hold immediately. One hand instinctively went to cradle his stomach. Merlin help him, he’d nearly tripped! That was too close. Was the baby alright? What if…

“Fine, fine. I get it.”

Draco looked up, jerked out of his mental spiral at Potter’s tetchy tone.

Potter’s mouth pursed and he held his hands up, making a point of taking a step back. “You know there’s no one here, right?” he went on, still looking put out for some reason. “Sorry for not letting you break something, I guess.”

“What?” Draco shook his head. He was starting to feel very nonplussed. And now he’d forgotten what he wanted to say. Damn it, he’d rehearsed it so carefully! What were the words?!

_Potter, we need to talk._

“Potter,” Draco blurted out before he could reconsider. “I want to talk. To you. I mean.”

_I’m pregnant. It’s yours. I’m keeping it._

“You do?” Potter’s brow furrowed. “Funny, I had a very different impression.”

“What?”

“No, just…” Potter huffed, sounding somewhat frustrated. Oh, good. And Draco hadn’t even got to the fun part yet. “It’s just,” Potter went on after a spell of silence, “normally, you avoid me. Unless we’re...you know.”

“I...wait, what?” Draco sputtered in sudden indignation. “That’s not...you avoid me too! You’re the one who stopped coming to study group…”

“Well, yes,” Potter cut in. “Because you get all squirmy when I’m there!”

The nerve. “I don’t _squirm,”_ Draco snapped. And now, they were officially off topic. He groaned and pressed two fingers to his forehead, striving for calm. This was a delicate discussion. He needed to stay on track and getting roped into an argument was hardly the way to do it. “It doesn’t matter right now,” he said firmly. “Potter, we need to speak _now._ It’s important.”

“Alright.” Potter cocked his head and crossed his arms expectantly. “I’m listening.”

_Potter. I’m pregnant. It’s yours._

_Potter. I’m_ pregnant _. It’s_ yours.

_Potter. I’m-_

“Any day now, Malfoy,” Potter cut in dryly.

“I’m getting to it!” Draco snapped. Why did the wanker have to make everything so difficult?! _Deep breaths,_ he told himself firmly. _Focus._ “Okay. Look, Potter. I...about what we’ve...you know, been doing. There’s something you should know. I...that is, _we..._ ”

“Are you ending things?” Potter asked quietly. “That’s what this is, right?”  
  
“What? No! I mean, maybe. I mean...that’s not even...what are you going on about?”

“Me? What are _you_ going on about?”

“Potter, stop it!” Draco held a forbidding finger up, just daring the prat to say one more word. “Focus. I have something to tell you and it can’t wait. So shut up and let me do it!”

“Fine.” Potter scoffed and looked away belligerently. “Have at it then.”

“Okay. Fine.” Deep breaths. Deep. Breaths. “Potter, you...I mean, we...theresababy.”

Silence. Utter, complete deafening silence. Draco’s fists clenched as Potter stared at him, looking absolutely baffled. Any minute now, the rusted gears in his brain would kick in and the blame and accusations would come pouring out like…

“What?”

_Did he just say ‘what’?_

Draco stared back, mirroring the confounded expression. Did...did Potter not know what babies were? Was he supposed to have the _faeries and flitterbys_ talk with him?

“I said,” he repeated slowly and meaningfully, “there’s a baby. Potter, there is a baby. Please tell me you understand and I don’t have to break out the finger puppets.”

Potter, if possible, looked even more gormless. And then, the light of comprehension dawned in his eyes. Draco waited with bated breath for the other shoe to drop.

“Ha ha,” Potter deadpanned. “You’re hilarious.”

Wait. What?

“You know, you actually had me worried for a second there,” Potter went on accusingly. “I thought we were past the whole _Potter Stinks_ phase. You just can’t stop messing with me, can you?”

“Potter, I...” Draco shook his head helplessly. How did this go so _wrong?_ He said the words and everything! “I’m not messing with...you have this all wrong. Wait, let me start over. Potter, we need to talk. I’m…”

“Draco.”

Potter took a step forward and held him by the shoulders. The remainder of Draco’s carefully prepared speech fizzled away into nothing. Potter was staring at him now, eyes gentle but strangely determined. Draco swallowed around a lump in his throat. Why did Potter always have to be so...intense? It made him feel wrong-footed and...and _squirmy_ and like he couldn’t put two words together. And that was the last thing he needed right now.

“Just so you know,” Potter murmured, the hint of a smile playing on his lips, “I don’t mind you messing with me. In fact, I...I guess I’m used to it. I might even, I don’t know, like it. I guess, after everything that’s happened, that bit still feels like a little bit of normal to me. Like not everything’s changed.”

“Potter…”

“Look, right now? I just need to know one thing.” Potter’s grip tightened ever so slightly. “Do you really want to end things? With me?” His tongue darted out to dampen his lips and Draco’s breath hitched. “Because I don’t. I like what we have. Don’t you?”

“I…I do. But that’s what I...”

“Then that’s all I need to know.” Potter smiled at him then — that earnest, blindingly sincere smile that always made Draco feel like he was standing under a thousand Lumos spells. He was no stranger to Potter’s smiles now — the dangerous, rakish one when he pinned Draco to a wall or the playful one when he nodded at a discreet alcove in a deserted corridor — but this one, this might just be his favourite. Even as he stood there with an explosive, life altering secret still stuck in his throat, he realised how long he’d been waiting for Potter to turn this smile his way.

And the timing couldn’t be worse if he tried.

At least he knew where the baby got it from.

“I’ve been thinking,” Potter went on. His thumbs were stroking now, gliding over Draco’s skin in an almost reassuring way. “I know it’s a lot for you but I would really like to...not avoid you all the time. Not that the other part isn’t fun because oh _Merlin,_ is it fun _…”_

“Potter.” Draco bit his lip, even as the blush rose to his cheeks. “Do you have a point or not?”

Potter grinned fondly. “I’m saying we should do something, just the two of us. Well, something else, at least. Will you at least think about it?”

“Potter, you’re not listening.” Draco groaned inwardly, even though something in his chest tumbled with newfound excitement. “That sounds nice but I really, _really_ need you to…”

“Harry? You out there?”

Draco startled and even Potter jumped as the entrance slid open again. Weasley stepped out, a broomstick hoisted over one shoulder. He took one look at them and stopped short.

“Ron!” Potter blurted, immediately stepping away from Draco.

“Weasley,” Draco greeted stiffly, taking several steps back as well.

“Lads,” Weasley greeted suspiciously. “Am I interrupting something?”

 _Damage control. Damage control_ now.

“As a matter of fact you are, Weasley,” Draco drawled, rolling his eyes. “You just walked in on Potter and I _in flagrante delicto._ Why, another minute and we’d be giving the portraits one hell of a show. Isn’t that right, Scarhead?”

Potter managed a nervous, unconvincing laugh and Weasley made a face.

“Thanks. That won’t give me nightmares or anything.” He shook his head and turned to Potter. “You up for a quick game, mate? Ginny’s been going on and on about a rematch after you showed her up last week.”

The mention of the Weaslette made him stiffen but Draco wisely kept up his nonchalant, bored facade. As far as he knew, Potter had called it quits with her the summer before Hogwarts and they’d been on friendly, if somewhat awkward terms ever since. Not that it concerned him. Potter could be friends with whoever he wanted, obviously. If the clueless dolt wanted unhealthy attachment issues with women who wrote terrible poetry and had been obsessed with him since Second Year, that was his business, wasn’t it?

Suddenly, Draco wanted nothing less than to have this, or any conversation with Potter. This was clearly a bad time.

“Well, that’s my cue then,” he announced, giving them a terse nod. “Have a good game, Potter. Perhaps we might speak when you’re _available_ again.”

Potter shuffled uncomfortably and scrubbed the back of his head. “You could come,” he offered. “We need a fourth.”

As if.

“Thank you, but no,” Draco replied icily. “I’m taking a break from flying.”

_And if you’d listened to me instead of traipsing off with your friends, you’d know why!_

Potter, to his credit, did seem disappointed by his refusal. But he nodded and gave Draco another soft smile. “Alright. Talk later, then?”

Apparently. This conversation couldn’t have gone worse if he tried.

“Yes,” Draco muttered. “Later then.”

Potter gave him one last smile before heading off with Weasley. Draco watched him go, stomach churning and nerves frayed.

Well. That went in a whole other direction, didn’t it?

Draco palmed his face and groaned. Potter didn’t believe him. Potter thought he was ‘messing’ with him! Of all the absurd...what was he going to do now? He’d expected a certain amount of denial — and rage and confusion — but he certainly didn’t think he’d need to convince Potter that their baby existed!

Why did the prat have to make everything so difficult?

“I need to go lie down,” Draco mumbled to himself. And to think. If he couldn’t get through to Potter with words...well, he needed to think of something. His fingers twitched involuntarily and he glanced down, belatedly realising that he was still cradling his stomach.

Draco swallowed. The phantom flutter beneath his fingers only cemented his consternation.

He was running out of time. This baby deserved so much better from them. One way or another, he needed Potter to see sense and fast.

The only question was how.

* * *

In the light of day, it was so simple. Draco honestly couldn’t believe he’d spent three restless nights before landing on the obvious solution.

Of course the direct approach hadn’t worked! Draco had neglected an extremely salient point in his planning. He may be a powerful wizard and a hero to the magical world but Potter had been _raised by muggles_. And since that was only a step above being raised by wolves, it meant that there were still some fundamental gaps in his understanding of how things worked.

Gaps like _oi Potter,_ _wizards can bear children._

_No wonder he thought I was having him on._

Draco shook his head, amazed at his own lack of foresight. He should have known, considering who he was dealing with. A frank conversation was clearly the wrong way to go here and honestly, he should have expected that — when had he and Potter _ever_ had a conversation? They’d gone straight from hurling hexes at each other to hurling themselves at each other. Talking was something they just never did and with their history, that was probably for the best. So it was hardly a surprise that Potter wasn’t hearing him now.

And that meant, Draco needed to try a less direct approach — something worthy of his Slytherin talents. Sure, it would take a little longer but he wasn’t going to make any headway until Potter saw the light. And if the man didn’t even know that male pregnancies were real…

Draco took a discreet look around the library before swigging down the last of his prenatal potion. He’d made it here half an hour before study-group to get the books he needed. Now, as he thumbed through a fairly comprehensive tome with detailed cases of male pregnancies — and Merlin, he did _not_ need to know quite that much about Hamish MacFarlan, Captain of the Montrose Magpies — he thought this might work. Potter might think Draco was pulling his leg but surely he wouldn’t dismiss solid academic proof so easily? Now all he had to do was leave this book somewhere Potter was sure to find it and somehow convince him to read it end to end.

That part, admittedly, was not something he held high hopes for. But if this was the only way…

“Malfoy? You’re here early!”

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin as Granger’s greeting rang out. The witch breezed past him — summarily ignoring Madame Pince’s annoyed _shhh!_ — and set up camp across the table. Her bushy hair was done up in a bun and there was a quill sticking out of it. The ink smudge on her cheek suggested that she’d been busy making notes. And now she was here winding down at the library…

...by making more notes.

Draco rolled his eyes as she caught her breath.

“...didn’t think anyone would be here right now,” Granger prattled, pulling out a gigantic tome from her bag and setting it on the table with a loud _thud._ Draco winced and Pince bristled indignantly but Granger barely noticed, babbling merrily about all the studying she intended to do. “I’m barely halfway on that Charms essay on Anti-Apparition. Did you get to that bit about spatial assumptions yet? I thought it was fascinating so I figured I’d come down here and read up before we discussed it in the study group!”

“So you’re studying for studying,” Draco remarked dryly. Why was he even surprised? At least she was consistent.

“Oh, well. It’s just with the NEWTS and...what have you got there?” Granger asked suddenly. She craned her neck to get a better look at his book. “A Comprehensive History of... _what?!”_

Draco winced and shrugged apologetically at a fuming Pince. Granger naturally, ignored them both, snatched the book out of his hands and skimmed it voraciously. “This...Malfoy, is this _real?”_

Brilliant. Another Muggleborn who needed The Talk.

“They wrote a book about it, didn’t they?” Draco muttered, snatching the book back. Wonderful. Just perfect. He finally hooked a Gryffindor and it was the wrong one! Merlin help him, Granger was like a crup with a bone when she found something new to study. Now she wouldn’t shut up about it until…

Wait.

Oh _Merlin._

“Male pregnancy?” Granger whispered, sounding utterly awed.”That’s amazing! How many cases are there? Is it common? Is it rare? On an average, what factors contribute to the success or failure…”

“Granger,” Draco cut in when she showed no signs of coming up for air. “Do I look like that Wikipedia thing you told me about? Pick up a book,” he pushed the tome over, suppressing a triumphant smirk, “and learn.”

This was it. This was the way. Granger and her hunger for knowledge was inescapable. He couldn’t count the number of times she’d cornered him to ‘discuss’ whatever stirring subject had caught her fancy. Her best friends couldn’t possibly be an exemption! Sooner or later, she would bring up male pregnancy in front of Potter and then the pieces would fall into place. Potter may not believe him but surely, he would believe Granger.

“Can I?” Granger didn’t even wait for a reply, she just snatched the book up. “This is so going to be my next research paper!” Then she blinked and sat up. “I mean, unless you’re looking into it, of course.”

“What?”

“For the NEWTS, of course,” Granger clarified. “Why else were you looking it up?”

Oh.

_Oh._

“For the NEWTS, yes,” Draco rallied quickly. His pulse ticked up a notch but he managed a straight face. The last thing he needed was for someone to cotton on to the truth before Potter. Salazar, wouldn’t that be a situation? “But I’ll stick to Charms. You go ahead with that one, Granger. Read, research, discuss. All that rot.”

Granger squealed excitedly and clutched the book. “I can’t wait to get into this! I have so many questions! I’ll have to think of a research framework and a methodology…”

Draco nodded along and let her prattle at him as he mused. Good. This was good. The wheels were in motion. Sooner or later, Granger would crack and Potter would be subjected to a seminar on male pregnancy. And once the bait was set, it was merely a question of easing him into the truth. Eventually, even that obtuse idiot would see the light. Draco was sure of it.

This would work. It had to.

He went back to his studies with a sigh of relief, letting Granger’s excited chattering fade away to background noise. Just a little longer and this would all be over.

He just needed to keep calm and carry on.

* * *

He was _not_ keeping calm and carrying on. If anything, he was _being stressed_ and _staying still._

One week in. He’d been to Pomfrey again. Received another batch of potions. Sat through a stern lecture on _being stubborn_ and _insisting on doing this alone_. She had even threatened to take away House Points if he came to his next check up by himself. Draco didn’t even know how that worked since he wasn’t technically a Slytherin anymore, but he wasn’t eager to find out.

He popped another bean in his mouth as he reviewed his essay on Anti Apparition Charms. The taste of watermelon spread over his tongue, cool and refreshing. Apparently, it was growing on him. The books said it was much too soon for cravings but even so, he could already sense the slight changing of his tastes. He wondered how intense they would eventually get.

“You’re not going to make me eat ice-cream and pickles like some worn down Muggle cliche, are you?” he asked. His hand drifted over his belly as he spoke — a new reflex — and he winced at the nauseating thought. Admittedly though, _that_ would certainly get Potter’s attention.

Right. About him.

Draco sighed heavily and flopped down on his bed. He was alone in the dorms while his classmates took advantage of the fresh air and sunshine. It was just as well — there was very little privacy to be afforded in a room full of almost grown men falling over each other. And the Room of Requirement, for whatever reason, would not make itself available to him without Potter. He had the vaguest sense that the Room had not forgotten — nor forgiven — the incident with the Fiendfyre just yet. There would be a ways to go before anyone or anything in this castle had reason to trust him again. He tried not to dwell on it too much. Still, that left him with very little time and few options and if religiously avoiding polite society got him the solitude he needed, so be it.

It certainly helped that Potter was one of the people he was so assiduously avoiding.

 _Why hasn’t he_ said _something yet?_

Granger had to have talked by now, he was sure of it. Just three days ago, he’d come across her in the Common Room, engrossed in the book and furiously making notes. Weasley and Potter had joined her subsequently and Draco had made a quick exit to the dorms, where he’d waited with his heart thudding a mile a minute. Except, Potter didn’t seek him out that night or in the days that followed.

That wasn’t entirely unexpected. Maybe he needed some time to get his head around the situation? And to be perfectly honest, they hardly ever crossed paths outside of their scheduled rendezvous. They didn’t share classes — what with Potter taking Advanced DADA and Draco specialising in Transfiguration and Charms — and while Potter spent most of his free time on the Quidditch Pitch or in the Common Room with his friends, Draco haunted the Library. They were almost always on opposite ends of the castle and maybe, just maybe that was how Draco had initially planned it. It was just easier that way. For both of them.

But now…

Draco sighed again and scrubbed his tired eyes. He wasn’t even sure if he _wanted_ to hear what Potter had to say. This was going to change everything and things were already so confusing. He was only just getting around the idea of being a parent himself and...and maybe it was too complicated. Even for the Boy Who Lived.

But, as he wearily reminded himself, this wasn’t just about him anymore. He was responsible for more than just himself now and whether he liked it or not, so was Potter.

He was going to find out sooner or later. All Draco could do was ease him into it and hope that against all odds, the fallout wasn’t entirely catastrophic. And if he kept dragging his feet on this, it would be.

With that weary thought, he hoisted himself up, threw on his school robes in an effort to look at least halfway presentable and stashed the pregnancy books safely in the bag under his bed.

“Fresh air and sunshine?” he murmured, patting his stomach in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. A nervous flutter settled in his gut anyway and he couldn’t tell if it was him or the baby. “Well, let’s go find him then. ”

* * *

Potter wasn’t particularly hard to track down. There were only a few odd places where he spent his time nowadays. If it wasn’t the Quidditch Pitch, the Great Hall or the Common Room, it had to be the DADA Training Rooms.

Draco made his way down the corridor to the refurbished classrooms on the fourth floor. He would have thought that after Lockhart’s disastrous attempt at reviving the Duelling Club, anyone with a modicum of sense would discourage overzealous children with wands to fling spells at each other.

As usual, Potter saw things differently.

Then again, he had organised a secret defence training squad right under Umbridge’s nose so if anyone was an expert on the matter...Draco sighed and shook his head. Sometimes, he honestly wondered how he had ever mistaken Potter for a bumbling, inept fool. Running an underground fight club called Dumbledore’s Army in a time when _speaking_ the former Headmaster’s name was case for detention — it took an audacious sort of cunning to dream that up.

_And yet, he still hasn’t figured out he’s going to be a father._

Or maybe, Draco’s train of thought ominously supplied, he has and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Or think about it. Or have anything to do with Draco or the baby.

His footsteps faltered and he almost considered turning back but the flutter in his gut kept him going.

_I have to do this._

Draco swallowed and slipped into the classroom, unseen in the flurry of students milling about. Potter, however, was easily spotted, surrounded by a group of wide-eyed Second Years.

“Wrist up,” he was instructing, helping an exceptionally tiny Ravenclaw angle her wand. “Eye on the target. And then, swish and flick. Just like practice.”

The child nodded and raised her wand nervously. She flicked before she swished and predictably, the target exploded. Draco winced and some of the students skittered out of wand range, but Potter barely blinked.

 _“Again?”_ Tiny Ravenclaw emitted a screech of pure frustration and chucked her wand to the floor. “I’m done!” she announced, voice wavering a bit as she turned to Potter. Draco braced for a tantrum of epic proportions. He wasn’t disappointed. “I can’t do it and I quit and I’m never duelling **again!”**

“Sophie,” Potter chided, bending down to retrieve her wand. He smiled encouragingly and passed it over. “What did we just talk about? You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself.”

“But I…”

“Look,” Potter cut in gently. “I know you’re used to being good at everything. You get Os and Es in all your classes, right?” Little Ravenclaw scrubbed her face and nodded, looking just a tad mollified. Potter grinned and pressed the wand in her fingers. “Sometimes, you just don’t get it right on your first try. I know I didn’t. That’s why we practice. Now take a breather and try again, okay? Just relax.”

Draco watched in stunned, impressed silence as Potter took control, guiding the child with gentle encouragement and demonstration. He was patient and persistent and when Sophie was ready to try again, he helped her cast. Small sparks flew from the wand this time and Sophie’s face lit up with delight.

“There it is,” Potter praised, looking just as thrilled by her minute progress “A little more wrist in that swish and they’ll be drafting you into the DMLE before you know it.”

Something tender unfurled in Draco’s chest against his will. He’d never quite realised how good Potter was with children. Sure, he was nice to them — it was _Potter,_ of course he was nice to small children — but this was different. Potter had a genuine connection with these kids. He listened to them and mentored them and they clearly adored him. Even now, they were swarming him like eager kittens, demanding his attention and time. And he indulged them happily, giving them his all like he did with everything else.

Potter would make a good teacher. He would...he would make a good father.

If he chose to be.

“Hey there.”

Draco startled as a soft voice brushed his ear. He’d been so lost in thought he didn’t even notice that Potter had spotted him and come over. He blinked, looking up into warm, green eyes.

“Potter.”

Potter grinned and seated himself, sliding up to Draco a bit closer than strictly necessary. “I don’t remember seeing you here before,” he said teasingly. “Looking for some pointers, Malfoy?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “What, for the one Disarming Spell you know?” A small smile tugged at his lips nevertheless and he turned to watch the cheerful chaos unfold around them. The First Years were having a go at the Jelly-Legs Jinx, taking turns to cast it on each other and then tumbling around with shrieks of laughter. Despite the relative harmlessness of the spell, Draco’s insides clenched with worry. They were just...so tiny.

“It’s okay,” Potter said, nudging him gently. “I’d never let them try anything worse than an Impedimenta.”

Draco flushed, a little embarrassed by his evidently obvious fretting. Maybe the hormones were finally catching up to him.

“Do you like it?” he asked haltingly. The flush deepened and he hoped to Salazar that Potter wouldn’t call him out on it. “Spending time with them, I mean.”

Potter raised his eyebrows in frank surprise. Apparently, he hadn’t expected an actual conversation. “I do,” he answered, after a beat of silence. “They’re really smart, you know. Eager to learn and try new things. And they, I don’t know…” Potter trailed off and scrubbed the back of his head, looking a little embarrassed himself. “They don’t think of me as ‘The Saviour’ or whatever. I’m just the bloke who teaches them new spells. It’s...nice, I guess.”

“I imagine it is,” Draco murmured. He’d never thought about it that way. How often had he wished to be seen for more than his past? And to think that Potter, of all people, felt exactly the same way. Maybe, just maybe the chasm between their worlds wasn’t so wide after all. And maybe they _could_ come together...for the right reasons.

“Potter, I need to talk to you. Right now.”

The words tumbled out of him in a rush, before he could freeze up again. Potter blinked in sudden, abrupt surprise and Draco’s hands clenched against the desk.

_Spit it out. Just spit it out._

“Okay,” Potter said slowly. He turned to Draco, giving him his full attention. “What’s up?”

Okay. Okay, here it was.

Suddenly, Draco couldn’t quite meet his eyes. His pulse raced and he felt a little dizzy. He tried to find the right words, the five words he’d been practicing for two weeks. Five. Simple. Words.

_Potter. I’m pregnant. It’s yours._

“Potter, I-I’m…”

He tried, he really did. And yet, when he finally opened his mouth to speak…

“Have you talked to Granger lately?”

_Oh Merlin, take me now._

Potter looked justifiably nonplussed. “Yeah,” he replied slowly. “We’re pretty good friends in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Draco shook his head helplessly. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t say it out loud. Why was this so damned difficult? Everytime he tried, he found himself on another roundabout. At this rate, the baby would be here before he broke the news.

“Did she mention anything? Anything new?” His voice was taking on a desperate, floundering quality and he absolutely hated it. “Maybe about her research for the NEWTS or…”

“Is that what this is about?” Potter cut in. Draco’s eyes widened and his pulse was _galloping_ now. But Potter just made a small exasperated noise in his throat and shook his head. “Merlin, it’s always studying with you two.”

Wait, what?

“Draco.” Potter placed his hands on his shoulders, looking stern all of a sudden. In that moment, Draco could almost see him as a future teacher. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, alright?”

Draco nodded. He wasn’t sure he could do anything else, really.

“You,” Potter went on, “are going to ace the NEWTS. You’re smart, talented and you’ve got no reason to worry this much. With the amount of work you’re putting in, you might just give Mione a run for her money. Also, please don’t tell her I said that. I really want to live.”

Oh _Merlin._

“Potter,” Draco groaned. “It’s...a little more complicated than that. I’m trying, I swear I’m trying but I don’t know how to do this! I just...I’ve never been so overwhelmed and...”

“Hey, _hey_.” Potter gave him a gentle shake. “This is really getting to you, isn’t it?” He looked so concerned now, all sweet and strong and oh gods, this was only getting _worse._ “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” he asked gently.

Almost anything, as it turned out. Draco sighed and let Potter pull an arm around him. It felt good, and he didn’t think twice before letting his head fall against the man’s shoulder. He just needed a breather. He needed to think and collect himself.

“I know what will help,” Potter murmured into his hair. “Do you...remember what we talked about the other day? About spending time together? Just the two of us?”

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. The stupid, obtuse, sweet _idiot._ He didn’t even realise how complicated this had gotten and he was still pushing for an actual...something between them. How was he going to feel when Draco finally got the words out? How deceived and cheated would he feel then?

“Potter.” He disentangled himself and sat up, trying his hardest to sound resolute. He just sounded tired. “I...it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just...things are complicated right now. I wish I could explain it properly, I really do. But I just _can’t.”_

“I get it, you know.” Potter’s smile softened. “I know how complicated it is. We didn’t exactly go into this with a plan and I’m not going to lie, it will be rough when...if we…”

“If we go public?” Draco snorted. “Potter, you have _no_ idea.”

“The point is, I’m...I think I could. In fact, I’m sure I could. To me, it’s worth it. All of it. Everything.”

Draco’s heart clenched in his chest. “Potter…”

Potter took his hand. “How about we try this step by step? You can start by calling me Harry, for one thing. And I could take you out on an actual date and we’ll see how things go.”

A date. How had they ended up on a _date?_ This thing had spiralled so far out of control.

“Potter…”

“Harry,” Potter corrected with a small grin.

“Fine,” Draco muttered. “ _Harry._ We... _”_

“Harry?” a small voice chirped suddenly.

Draco glanced up, to find himself surrounded by wide-eyed First Years. He jumped and Potter startled, clearing his throat and quickly removing his arm from Draco’s shoulders. More innocent blinking ensued, although Draco did notice a couple of small Slytherins shoot each other knowing glances.

“Can you show us a new spell now?” one of them asked. “I want to learn the Slug Vomit Charm.”

Draco snorted and ducked his head. Of course that’s the one they want. One of the first things _he_ did after Weasley’s wand debacle was commit that spell to memory.

Potter gave him a flat look, but his lips were twitching too. “How about we skip that one for now?” he said dryly, only to be greeted with _awws_ of disappointment. He shared a grin with Draco and turned back to the kids. “But if you give me another minute with Draco here, we can practice the Tickling Charm.”

The compromise worked and the kids hurtled off, eager to start practicing.

“Bribes?” Draco smirked. “How very Slytherin of you.”

“I learned from the best,” Pot-Harry retorted. He hesitated for a second, as if mulling over something. Draco raised an enquiring eyebrow and then, quick as lightning, Harry pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Oh.

“So, tonight?” Harry grinned, looking so sweet and hopeful that it made his heart clench again.

Draco bit back on a sigh of resignation. “Tonight,” he agreed softly.

He watched as Harry left him with one last smile to coach his brood. Brilliant. At least he had until tonight to formulate a new plan. Between Granger’s lack of progress and his own failure to communicate, he needed a new way to start the conversation.

It could only get better from here, right?

* * *

Draco made his way to the Quidditch Pitch that evening with the next phase of his plan firmly in his pocket. It had taken four hours of Charms work and a minor meltdown but he finally had a way to break the news to Potter. A demonstration even he would understand.

And what better time than now? They were finally alone. No interruptions. Nothing at all to distract from the inevitable conversation.

 _That’s a good thing,_ Draco firmly reminded himself.

He was doing this tonight. This time, nothing would go wrong.

And he knew that because this time, he wasn’t relying on _words_ and all the complications that came with them. Instead, he was going to ease Potter into the truth with a carefully constructed visual metaphor. And then, after Potter had his freakout and Draco rediscovered the fine art of speaking coherently, they could discuss co-parenting and what not.

The Snitch in his pocket buzzed sleepily and his hand closed around it. “Do _not_ ruin this for us,” he muttered, as he slipped into the grounds and made his way to the Pitch.

Before long, he was out in the open. The goal posts rose high above him, reaching for the stars. It was so quiet out here at night. It was a strange look for a place usually thronging with screaming crowds and flying banners. Draco took a deep breath to steady himself. His hand drifted to his stomach again, and he allowed himself a moment’s distraction. It was still too soon but...sometimes, he could almost feel something shift under his fingertips. Like the baby was reaching out to him too. It was a soothing thought and it made him smile. At least he wasn’t alone.

“You came.”

Draco startled as two arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him flush into a toned chest. His breath hitched as Harry pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Hey there,” he murmured. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Harry,” Draco replied softly. He turned around to face the man, taking in the familiar sight of his messy hair and warm, green eyes. Harry’s robes were askew and his Firebolt was propped against a nearby tree. He had obviously been flying when Draco arrived.

“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” Draco asked.

Harry smiled, and shrugged uncertainly. “I thought you might change your mind,” he admitted. “Things have been...strange lately, haven’t they?” Draco looked away and it seemed to confirm Harry’s suspicions. He sighed and looped an arm around Draco’s waist. “Look, I don’t know what you’re going through right now but I know something’s bothering you. I just...I want you to enjoy yourself tonight, that’s all.”

A flood of emotions whirled inside him. Draco swallowed, a bit surprised at the sudden lump in his throat. This, all of this, had been so overwhelming. A part of him wished he could just sink into Harry’s arms and let it all out. Just tell him everything and…

But that wasn’t the plan. He still needed to do this right. For the baby. So, he gathered himself and met eyes with Harry.

“I have something for you.”

The Snitch buzzed eagerly as he withdrew it from his robes. It glinted gold in the moonlight and unfurled its wings.

Harry stared at it in silence for a few seconds, and then a grin crept up his lips. “You know I have other interests,” he said, reaching out.

Draco smirked and released his grip. The Snitch snapped up its bid for freedom and was gone in the blink of an eye. “Oops,” he drawled. “Clumsy me.”

“So that’s how it is.” Harry chuckled and flicked his fingers. The Firebolt sped to him and Draco barely had a moment to be impressed by that easy display of wandless magic before Potter was beckoning to him. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go chase it down.”

Flying. Potter wanted to fly. Together. Draco froze. He...wasn’t supposed to be flying technically. Pomfrey hadn’t expressly forbidden it but…

“Draco? What’s the matter?”

Draco hesitated. He could beg off, if he really tried. Potter certainly wouldn’t force him if he said he wasn’t feeling well. But another part of him felt like he really needed this too. He wanted to be there when Harry caught that snitch. He wanted that moment. And, maybe more than he dared admit, he wanted to fly with Harry again, pressed up against him as they raced through the sky.

So, he sat himself behind him, heart skittering in his chest and looped his arms tight around his middle. “Alright, Potter,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

Harry laughed and kicked off the ground.

And they were flying.

* * *

The wind cut through his hair and robes. Draco laughed breathlessly, tightening his hold on Harry as they looped and weaved through the air.

“See anything yet?”

Harry had to yell to be heard over the whistle of the wind.

“Bank a left and head for the goalposts,” Draco called back. He craned his neck to take a better look. “I think I saw something.”

Harry cut a sharp arc and the broom dipped. Draco yelped as his stomach churned and his insides twisted but despite the momentary discomfort, he couldn’t stop laughing. Salazar, this was the most fun he’d had in ages. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d missed flying.

And Harry. He’d missed Harry too. Now that he was here, flying with him under the light of a thousand stars, he rather wished they’d done this earlier. Just...been with each other. Before things went completely mental.

“Over there!”

Harry’s excited yell was accompanied by a wicket plummet. The wind stung his face and Draco grappled for dear life, almost missing the glint of the Snitch as it zoomed ahead.

Harry didn’t though. With point blank concentration, he pursued the golden orb’s trajectory, swerved against the beating wind and reached out.

“Yes!”

He raised his fist. Draco laughed as the Snitch buzzed petulantly, firmly ensconced in Harry’s fingers. Harry whooped and pulled the broom up. He drifted into a lazy glide, circling the Pitch a few times before and performing a totally unnecessary loop before heading back to solid ground.

“Here we go,” he said, as they finally landed. “Safe and sound.”

Draco alighted, still flush and thrumming with energy. His legs felt wobbly under him and he yelped as he nearly stumbled. Harry reached out and caught him before he could hit the ground.

“Easy there,” he chuckled, pulling Draco over and holding him by the waist. They backed into a tree and Draco leaned against the rough bark. His head was buzzing and he felt strangely content despite the warning lurch of his stomach. Merlin, they really shouldn’t have tried that last loop. Still, being here — with Harry smiling down at him and his fingers tracing soothing circles against the small of his back — he felt content. And it had been a while since he’d felt that way. “What’s with the jelly legs?” Harry asked, nuzzling at his hair now. “You’re usually lighter on your feet.”

“I told you I took a break from flying,” Draco mumbled. He swayed slightly and his head came to rest against Harry’s chest. Harry carded a hand through his hair and the Snitch — still locked between his fingers — fluttered unhappily. Draco smiled. “You didn’t open your gift.”

“What, this?” Harry raised an eyebrow and withdrew the Snitch, turning it in his hands.

Draco’s smile flickered and his hands reached up to grab Harry’s robes. “Just watch.”

This was it. Now or never.

They watched in silence as the Snitch flapped its wings in Harry’s grip. Harry hesitated, then ran a tentative thumb over it’s smooth surface. For a few moments, there was nothing. Draco’s grip on him tightened and then…

“Oh,” Harry blurted, eyes wide and unblinking.

The Snitch quivered in his grip. It’s wings fluttered violently before extending and wrapping all the way around its form. A golden glowing light encased the orb, growing steadily brighter — until it resembled the stars twinkling above them. And then, when the light grew so bright that Harry blinked and Draco was sure he would have to look away, it disappeared. And the Snitch unfurled its wings, revealing itself again.

“Oh _Godric,”_ Harry exclaimed. A breathy laugh escaped him and he shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

In his hand, the Snitch still sat. But a smaller Snitch — much, _much_ smaller than the original — now sat in Harry’s palm right next to it. It too, was a bright burnished gold. Roughly the size of a marble, with thready wings just a touch too large for its tiny, round body.

“Surprise,” Draco drawled.

“It’s…” Harry shook his head and laughed. “It’s _adorable.”_

The baby Snitch, as Draco had been calling it ever since he enchanted the little thing into being, fluttered clumsily. It flapped its wings and rose a few inches before collapsing under its own weight and tumbling into Potter’s careful grip again. Draco smiled as it buzzed petulantly. Perhaps he’d done too good a job at enchanting it. It was behaving, for all the world, like a petulant child.

“There there,” Harry crooned, stroking it with one careful finger. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Baby Snitch buzzed in contentment and curled a wing around his finger. Harry’s grin widened and he carefully closed his hand around it, letting it rest in his palm again.

“You,” he chuckled, turning to Draco with sparkling eyes, “are absolutely ridiculous.”

“Mmhm,” Draco replied. He could hardly disagree, given the circumstances. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Harry confirmed. “Best present I ever got. I’m going to keep it forever.”

_Keep it forever._

Draco swallowed, feeling off-kilter all over again. “I hope you do,” he murmured quietly. “But...but you might change your mind, you know.”

“What?" Harry's brow furrowed and he glanced up at Draco, nonplussed. "What do you mean by...”

His stomach was churning again. He felt dizzy and uncoordinated. Draco took a deep breath again but this time, it only felt like his chest was closing in on itself. Oh gods, no. Not again! He had to say it. He _had_ to get it out this time.

He couldn’t go through another day holding on to this, he just couldn’t.

“Draco?” Harry’s smile faded and he took a step closer. “Hey, what is it? You look...”

“Harry, I need to tell you something.” He scrubbed his eyes and slipped out of Harry’s hold, trying to stoically ignore the churning in his gut. Now or never. _Now or never._ “And...I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it. In truth, I’m terrified about finding out. But you have to know. You just...you have to.”

Harry looked genuinely worried and it just made the churning in Draco’s gut worse. It was awful. He felt like he was lost at sea and there was nothing to hold on to.

 _I’m not alone,_ he reminded himself. But it felt like poor comfort at a time like this.

“I’m here,” Harry promised. He sounded solemn and earnest, like he wanted nothing more but to help. “I’m listening, Draco.”

This was it. No excuses, distractions or interruptions for miles. He had no reasons not to do this anymore. Draco nodded and braced himself.

“Harry, I…”

Oh _gods._

“What?” Harry urged.

Draco groaned and clutched his stomach. He felt worse than he ever had before. It felt like his very insides were revolting now. What the hell…?!

“Draco?” Harry came forward, looking justifiably alarmed as Draco doubled over. “What the...what’s wrong?!”

“I don’t...” Bile rose in his throat. Oh _no._ Draco’s eyes widened in horror as the awful inescapable reality of _what was about to happen_ set in. “I-I’m going to...don’t come any...”

And then it happened. The nightmare to end all nightmares.

Whether it was the baby or motion sickness from the flight he’d just taken or just one of the many joys of being Draco Malfoy, he would never know. What he did know was that Harry didn’t back away in time, there was no time to make a run for it and the Fates obviously hated him.

And so, he doubled over, spewed forth like one of Myrtle’s toilets and sicked up.

All over Harry Potter’s shoes.

* * *

“You,” Draco informed his stomach balefully, “are the _worst._ Just like your father.”

“Now, there’s no need to blame the baby.” Pomfrey gave him a mildly scolding look as she handed him a Stomach Settling Draught. “Nobody forced you to go flying after taking your prenatal potion, did they? If you had just paid attention to...oh, do stop pouting and drink up.” 

Draco downed the draught with admittedly bad grace. He was quite sure he had never felt this awful in his entire life. The nausea had stayed with him all night — even after he’d gone and disgraced himself in the worst way possible. Oh _Salazar_ , just thinking of it made him cringe. He’d all but fled with the shreds of his dignity, leaving a shell-shocked Harry in the dust. Mercifully, Harry hadn’t tried to pursue him or he would most definitely have thrown himself out the nearest window. At any rate, he was too sick and mortified to go back to the Common Room so the Hospital Wing it was. By the time, Madam Pomfrey showed up in the wee hours of morning and shook him awake, he was still nauseous, embarrassed beyond belief and craving treacle tart for some reason.

What had his life come to?

“I assumed morning sickness was...you know, a _morning_ thing,” Draco muttered. The nausea which had plagued him all night was slowly dissipating but the relief only brought the rest of his problems into sharp focus. Everything was a right mess and apparently, his own body was no exception. It was just another thing that had spiralled out of control.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Pomfrey returned dryly. Her lips twitched and she offered him another vial. “That one should take care of the headache.” She watched as he downed it. He must have looked rather miserable because she reached out and squeezed his shoulder gently. “Draco, you’re trying so hard to control this situation. I need you to understand that the further this goes, the harder it will get. You’re eight weeks in now. Things are moving so quickly. Did you know that your baby’s taste buds are just starting to form?”

“Well, that explains the watermelon,” Draco mumbled. He was so tired. Merlin, he was just...tired.

Pomfrey smiled sympathetically. “A lot of things are going to change,” she told him, not unkindly. “At some point, you’re going to need a support system. Believe it or not, you deserve one. And so does your child.”

Draco nodded but refrained from making any promises. The truth was that he was done. If last night had proved anything...maybe he simply wasn’t _meant_ to tell Harry. And despite what Pomfrey said, it was becoming increasingly clear to him that he was going to do this by himself. That’s just how it was. And frankly, after last night, the thought of even _seeing_ Harry — forget speaking to him — was enough to send him into fits. The humiliation and the stress...it was too much. It was just too much.

Honestly, all he wanted right now was to hide in the Hospital Wing for the rest of his natural life.

“Can I stay here a while?” he asked quietly. “Please?”

Pomfrey hesitated a moment. But then she nodded and patted his shoulder again. “Only if you promise to rest. And take better care of yourself.”

Well, he could do one of those, at least. Draco toed off his shoes and fell back on the narrow bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

It was late afternoon before he ventured into the world again.

Pomfrey was reluctant to let him go; she was of the mind that he needed more rest. Still, well-intentioned as that was, even he knew that staring at the Infirmary ceiling for the rest of the school year was not a sustainable way forward. And as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t miss his classes. Not if he wanted to graduate in time.

So, Draco made his way to the dungeons. Potions was next and he needed to finish his paper before the NEWTS. Also, by luck or happenstance, he didn’t share with Harry. That, admittedly, was the only reason he’d gathered the courage to go. All he had to do was get through one class and skip dinner in the Hall, and he could make it to the dorms without running into...him.

And tomorrow, he would put this mess behind him. He would tell Ha- _Potter_ that he needed space and perhaps it was best if they avoided each other for the rest of the school year. And after that...well, he would need to figure things out but once he submitted his research thesis, he could very well complete his NEWTS by correspondence. Perhaps he would return to the Manor. Mother would be happy to have him back and he still needed to break the news to her. He couldn’t imagine her reaction but he would rather risk it than spend one more second…

“Draco.”

Oh no.

Draco closed his eyes. His shoulders sagged. This...this could not be happening. Why couldn’t he catch a break just _once?_

“What?” he muttered, trying to sound biting. His voice just came out as tired and resigned.

Harry caught up to him with quick strides, blocking Draco’s path firmly. “Oh thank Godric,” he said. His hands flew to his hair, pushing through it in an agitated motion. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You just ran off and...at first I thought you went to the dorms but then you weren’t there. And then you weren’t at breakfast and then you missed class! Do you have any idea how worried...”

“Potter,” Draco cut in firmly, ignoring the obvious look of surprised hurt on Harry’s face. “I apologise for my conduct last night and I understand that you were worried but circumstances were...beyond my control. That’s all I can say.”

“So we’re back to last names again?” Harry asked quietly. He looked uncertain and sad, all of a sudden, and Draco’s determination nearly wavered. “Look, about last night. I don’t...really understand what’s going on anymore. All I know is we were, I don’t know, connecting. Then you ran off and I couldn’t find you anywhere. And okay, maybe I shouldn’t have but I was worried so I...looked you up in the Map _._ You were in the Hospital Wing all night. Weren’t you?”

Draco’s throat clenched. He didn’t respond. He just couldn’t.

“Are you sick?” Harry demanded, looking honestly, heartbreakingly worried for him. “Is that what this is all about?”

“Not...not really, no.” He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t _do this_ anymore. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m handling the situation as best as I can. And I really have to go to class now so…” He pushed past Harry in a bid for freedom and he wasn’t even slightly surprised when a firm hand clamped around his forearm.

“Draco, stop it!” Harry snapped. He looked frustrated and upset and it was all Draco could do not to Disapparate on the spot, wards be damned. “I just want to figure this out, okay? Please just talk to me.”

“I can’t.” Draco looked away. His eyes were starting to sting and Salazar help him, if he didn’t get away right now he was going to break down. “I tried, Potter. I did. I’m sorry but I just can’t.”

“Can we…”

“No!” He wrenched his arm out of Harry’s grip and backed away. “You want to know what’s going on? Do you? Well, here it is. My life is complicated right now. I can’t give you what you want. I need space. I need to figure this out _myself_. And...and I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Silence settled on them like the aftermath of a curse.

“So that’s it,” Harry spoke, his voice quivering just a little. “You want to end this. Us.”

“There is no ‘us’.”

The flutter in his stomach tightened, twisting into a little knot of discomfort. It was like the baby knew.

 _Oh, so now you’re cross with me too,_ Draco thought morosely. He couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it. Especially if Harry’s hurt, crestfallen expression was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry, Potter,” he said out loud. “I truly am. Please believe me when I say it’s for the best.”

Harry grimaced. “I believe you believe it,” he replied. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair again. And then, he shook his head, gave Draco a disappointed look and moved out of his way. “See you around, Malfoy.”

Draco left quickly and without another look back. And if it felt like his heart was breaking with every footstep, then that’s just the way it was.

* * *

Potions went by in a blur. Draco couldn’t even begin to concentrate on his Invisibility Potion, and frankly, he couldn’t care less about it at the moment. He felt sick to his stomach, his head was spinning and the worst of all? Harry’s crestfallen, heartbroken face flashing before his eyes in an accusing infinite loop.

That...look. He wasn’t sure he would ever forget it.

“Malfoy, could you...never mind.”

Granger cleared her throat and shifted around him to reach for the bitter root. She started slicing, firmly avoiding eye contact with him. Draco’s brow furrowed at her uncharacteristically quiet demeanor. Normally, when they partnered up, he could barely get her to shut up. Now she wouldn’t even look at him.

Great. Because _this_ was what he needed right now. At this rate, the entire castle would be shunning him by the end of the week.

“I’ve got it,” Draco muttered, raising his wand to perform a Slicing Spell. His wand sputtered and flickered in his grasp, and then suddenly their table was covered in mounds of bitter root. Draco winced and several students cast puzzled glances in their direction.

“Malfoy!” Granger protested.

“Sorry,” Draco sighed, flushing to the tips of his ears. Pomfrey had warned him that the Stomach Settling Draught would interfere with his casting ability for the rest of the day. But he didn’t think it would be this bad.

Now he couldn’t even do his schoolwork without messing up. Had he always been this much of a failure at everything? Honestly, he couldn’t think of a single thing in his life that was going right at this point.

“I’ll do it,” Granger insisted, elbowing him aside again and pushing some of the bitter-root out of her workspace. “Just don’t do anymore wand-work right now.”

It may have been a reasonable request but Draco still felt slighted by it. This was just as much his Potion as hers and his grade depended on it too. “Fine,” he bit back. “Then I’ll stir.” He edged around her to reach for the stirrer.

Granger promptly snatched it up. “No, thank you,” she replied firmly. “I can do it.”

What the…? Draco was swiftly running out of patience.

“Granger, leave it. Just let me…”

“I said it’s fine! You don’t have to…”

“And I said I want to work on the Potion! Now _move_ so I can…”

“Malfoy!” Granger snapped and snatched up the stirrer again, blocking his path quite firmly now. Honestly, what was up with her? Draco watched in disbelief as she crossed her arms and turned the full force of her indignant glare on him. “I really, _really_ don’t think you should.”

“Why the hell not?” Draco snapped. This was absurd. If she wanted a fight, fine! He was all geared up for a row anyway.

“Oh, I don’t know!” Granger hissed back. “ _Fumes,_ maybe? That brew is full of monkshood, how can you be so careless?! It can’t be good for the…”

She trailed off. Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Her mouth snapped shut and she looked utterly stricken.

And Draco...Draco’s heart plummeted.

“Can’t be good for what?” he demanded in a low voice.

“Nothing.”

Draco’s heart hammered. His fist clenched. “Granger,” he hissed. “Can’t. Be. Good. For. _What?!”_

Granger sighed heavily and put the stirrer down. “You know what.”

She knew. She _knew._

Granger gripped his arm. She lowered her voice and leaned in to whisper. “I didn’t tell anyone. I _didn’t,_ Malfoy.”

All this time. She had known. Draco’s headache just got exponentially worse.

“Malfoy?” Granger whispered uncertainly. Her hand squeezed his arm carefully. “Are you…”

Too much. It was just too much. He couldn’t compartmentalise anymore, not when everything was coming at him at once. First Potter, now this! Draco made a snap decision and honestly, at this point, he didn’t even care what the consequences were. He shook her off and raised his hand.

“Professor Slughorn?”

Granger made an alarmed squeaking sound and some of the students turned to look at them. Slughorn, who looked close to nodding off at his desk, jerked up and blinked blearily at him.

“What is it, Malfoy?”

“Granger and I need to visit the library,” Draco lied, trying to keep his voice steady. He only partially succeeded. “Right now.”

“We do?” Granger blurted.

Draco’s answering glare could very well have burned her to ashes. She seemed to reach some kind of private consensus and she turned to Slughorn. “We do, Professor. Please, it’s very urgent.”

Slughorn dithered a bit but evidently, her vote counted more than his. “Very well, off with you then. Just be sure to…”

Draco was up and out of the classroom before he could finish. He fled down the corridor and leaned against a wall, head in his palms, trying to get his spinning head under control. It wasn’t long before he heard Granger’s soft footsteps approaching.

She looked grave and sober, but the small smile she gave him was genuine.

“Come on. I know where we can go.”

* * *

“There,” Granger said, locking the door with a strong _Colloportus_. “We should be fine now.”

Being in the Room of Requirement again brought about a lot of mixed feelings. On one hand, this was the safest place he could be right now. The Room wouldn’t let anyone in so long as it was in use. On the other hand, it was the one place in this castle where his memories of Harry were the most...poignant. So many nights, so many stolen moments...all gone now. Being here with Granger was a headspin all on its own and if that wasn’t enough, the Room had chosen to equip them with a few things that were clearly meant for children — a selection of books from his childhood, a toy broomstick, a rocking horse.

He wasn’t sure if they were meant to comfort or mock him.

“Should I have not said anything?”

He looked up. Granger hovered anxiously around him, arms crossed and expression uncertain. She didn’t look like she knew what to do, which was probably a first for her.

Then again, who was he to judge? He’d been flying blind since this damned thing started.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took so long,” he replied. “I was expecting this conversation weeks ago.”

Granger smiled faintly and sat across from him. The Room was littered with soft, plushy cushions and he couldn’t help but notice the relief they brought to his aching back. Lately, everything seemed to hurt. His back. His head. His stupid, stupid heart. Admittedly, that last one he brought upon himself.

“It was only a vague suspicion at first,” Granger clarified. “When you gave me the book, I didn’t really think much of it. But then I found this.” She rummaged around in her satchel and pulled something out. Draco took it, immediately recognizing it as one of his many pamphlets. “You left it in the book,” Granger went on. “I recognised your handwriting, you had every milestone circled. But I still didn’t realise…”

Draco winced at his own carelessness. He may as well have laid a trail of breadcrumbs for her. “At the time, I was hoping the notion of a male pregnancy would intrigue you,” he confessed grudgingly. “I didn’t mean for you to connect the dots but I was hoping you’d introduce the idea to Ha-to Potter.”

“Well, that was your first mistake,” Granger retorted. “I always connect the dots. And as for Harry, he never listens to a word I say when it’s about studying. I’m pretty sure he and Ron learned to tune me out in Second Year.” She grinned ruefully and handed him a steaming cup of tea — yet another thing the Room had seen fit to provide. “Not one of your best plans, Malfoy.”

“You’re telling me,” Draco drawled. “In my defence, I wasn’t thinking clearly. It was...all a bit much at the time.”

“I’ll bet.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, and it almost surprised him. He hadn’t realised how much he’d needed to talk about it. About all of it. The relief was almost palpable, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“When did you know?” he asked curiously. “For certain, I mean.”

Granger shuffled uneasily. “Last night. Harry told me about what happened. Between you two. That’s when I figured...but I didn’t tell him!” she added hastily.

The rush of mortification returned, threatening to submerge him. “He’s telling people about it?” Draco groaned. Merlin, how humiliating!

“Just me,” Granger corrected quickly. “He was confused, he needed advice.” She fell silent and her fingers tapped against the teacup. She looked like she was mulling over what to say, or whether she should say it or not. “Malfoy, you have to tell him. You have _no_ idea what this has been doing to him.”

“Oh believe me, I can guess,” Draco snapped. “This hasn’t been a picnic for me either, Granger. For your information, it’s been a right mess. I feel like I’m constantly on the verge of a panic attack. I’m stressed, I can’t cast properly, I’m always hungry or tired or both! And between telling him and not telling him and not being _able_ to tell him...I’m going mental, do you understand?! This is a nightmare. You want my advice? _Never_ allow this to happen to you because it is singularly not worth it! You’re going to go spare and everything will be different and you’ll never get a thrice damned treacle tart even though it’s the _one_ thing you want more than anything in the world and…”

“Malfoy, stop!”

His vision cleared. He hadn’t even realised he’d been tearing up. Granger was watching him with wide eyes, her hands splayed in a placating gesture.

“Okay,” she said, her tone taking a noticeably soothing dip. “Deep breaths. Let’s...let’s try this again. I don’t have any treacle tarts and I want you to know, I am very sorry about that. But I want to help. Okay? Will you let me help?”

“You can’t,” Draco retorted sullenly. “There’s no help for this. It’s done. I just have to deal with it alone.”

“I can’t count the number of times Harry has said the same, stupid thing to me. And he’s been wrong every single time, I’ll have you know.”

Why did he insist on arguing with stubborn Gryffindors? Intractable mules, the lot of them.

“Now,” Granger went on. “About Harry. I realise it’s none of my business but why don’t you want to tell him?” Her expression flickered slightly, and sadness flitted across her face for a moment. “He’s always wanted a family, you know. Ever since I’ve known him, that’s what he’s wanted.”

It hurt to hear it. Somehow, knowing that Harry wanted this, some version of this — it just made it worse. “Not with me,” Draco murmured. He drew his knees up to his chest. He wasn’t angry anymore, just sad. Sad for himself, and the baby. “You can’t tell me he wants _this.”_

“I can’t,” Granger said, sounding firmer now. “But Harry can.” She shook her head and sighed. “Malfoy, I realise you’ve been dealing with a lot this year, but surely you’ve noticed that Harry likes you? He likes you enough to want to _be_ with you, baby or not. That’s a rather strong foundation to build on, isn’t it?”

Was it? Maybe it was. Or would have been, if he hadn’t wrecked it all today.

“I…ended things with him today,” he admitted guiltily. Granger’s eyes went wide and he braced for impact. “I don’t know why, before you ask. I couldn’t tell him the truth and it was too much so I...did this instead.”

She regarded him with an almost horrified sort of fascination. “It must be hell inside your head,” she said frankly. He couldn’t say he disagreed.

“He’s never going to hear me out now.”

“Oh, he’ll hear you out.” She pursed her lips and stared him down. “Malfoy, don’t underestimate my best friend. A lot of people have and they’ve ended up regretting it. He’ll step up, I guarantee it. But before that, _you’re_ going to have to be the brave one. Tell him. He needs to know.”

“I can’t!” Draco burst out. Why didn’t she understand? “I’ve tried, Granger. Everytime I get close I either freeze up or say something completely ridiculous! I _can’t_ get the words out.” He shook his head in despair and gave her a look of frank desperation. “You do it. Please? Just tell him for me.”

She pursed her lips, obviously trying to choose her next words delicately. “I don’t think it’s quite the same coming from me.”

“But he…”

“You say you can’t get the words out. Have you tried writing them down? Maybe a letter will help. Or you could visit Madam Pomfrey together and she could help you explain it.” Her tone gentled a bit. “These are fairly obvious solutions, you know. I don’t really believe you haven’t thought about them yourself.”

She had a point. He had thought about it and there were any number of ways he could have broken the news to Harry. Instead he’d been on swings and roundabouts, putting it off, weaving and dodging...all because he was scared. The idea of Harry rejecting him, rejecting _them_ scared him so much, that he’d decided to reject him first. He didn’t want to give him a chance to break his heart, even if Harry had given him no reason to think he would.

Put in that light, he could almost appreciate how ridiculous his reasoning sounded.

“I have to tell him, don't I?” he mumbled. His hand braced against his stomach. He could feel the beginnings of a curve now, or maybe it was just his overtaxed imagination. But this child was real. They had been real for eight weeks. And they deserved better.

Granger seemed to think so too. “You do,” she agreed. “And you should do it before you lose your nerve.”

“Right...now?” That instinctive panic gripped him again and he had to fight to shake it off. The thought of facing Harry again, after this morning, was hard enough. But the man probably didn’t even want to look at him anymore, let alone hear what he had to say.

“You can hold off,” Granger conceded. “But I think we both know what will happen if you do. The more you wait, the more reasons you’ll find not to do this.” She took a deep breath and met his eyes. “We’ve been in here for hours. It’s probably dinner time now so he’ll be in the Great Hall.”

The Great Hall. With the entire school assembled. And the teachers.

Oh Salazar.

“You can do this,” Granger urged.

Yes. Yes, he could. Merlin help him, he had to. But damn it if it didn’t still scare the living daylights out of him.

“Will you come with me?” he asked Granger. It was embarrassing and humbling but...she’d been here for him. He really didn’t think he could do it without her. “Please, Granger. I don’t...I don’t want to do it alone.”

Granger smiled. “Then you won’t be alone.”

And for whatever reason, that gave him the strength to get on his feet again. Granger squeezed his arm and they shared a brief smile and with that, he let her shepherd him to the Hall.

* * *

The clamour coming from the Hall was so loud, it almost made him falter. If it wasn’t for Granger trooping firmly at his side and whispering encouragements, he wasn’t sure he would have made it.

“Stay focused,” she advised as they entered. “The only person you need to concentrate on is Harry. Everything else is background noise. Okay?”

Draco nodded fretfully, his eyes scanning the vast room. The Eighth Year table was easily spotted, shunted right alongside the Gryffindors. The two mingled quite often. In fact, he could even see Ginevra Weasley at the table, cozying up to Longbottom and giggling as she stole from his plate. That, he would admit, helped bolster his spirits some.

And there...there at the far end of the table, sat Harry. Draco froze in his tracks.

Harry looked utterly miserable. He was barely paying attention, even though Weasley was prattling on next to him, and he was pushing his food around with a wan, lifeless energy. It was awful and the guilt nearly made him cave.

“Go on,” Granger whispered. “One step at a time.”

They approached the table with slow, measured steps. Harry’s lips pursed as they approached and he doubled down on glaring at the table, pointedly refusing to spare a glance for Draco. His fork clenched in his fist and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave. Nonetheless, he stayed put.

“Mione!” Weasley called, effectively distracted by the sight of his girlfriend. “I saved you a seat.”

Granger, being the unfathomably decent person that she was, hesitated a little. Draco sighed and gave her a small nudge forward. She’d done a lot for him but he couldn’t expect her to hold his hand through this. No, this part...this part he needed to do alone.

“Go ahead,” he whispered. “I’ve got it.”

“Just signal if you need me,” she whispered back. And with a reassuring nod, she went to take her place next to Weasley.

Draco sighed as he wedged himself in next to Harry. “Hi,” he greeted quietly.

Harry nodded tersely and stabbed a potato with his fork. This was going to be harder than he thought.

“Can we please talk?” Draco implored softly.

“Not really, no.” Harry dropped his fork with a clatter and turned to glare accusingly at him. “I rather think you said it all this morning, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Draco replied. He really was. Of all things he regretted in this mess, that made the top of the list. “You have to know I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m not sure what anything means anymore. Especially with you.”

A fair point. Draco had been rather...bewildering lately. It was a wonder Harry wasn’t tearing his hair out. “I know,” he admitted, somewhat gratified at the momentary flash of surprise in Harry’s eyes. “I’ve been unfair to you. For a long time now. I want to explain, Harry. I do. If you would just…”

“I tried,” Harry cut in. The hurt was bleeding in through his stoic demeanour, he looked agitated and confused and so upset it hurt. From the corner of his eye, Draco could see Granger leaning over discreetly to watch them. “I tried before,” Harry went on. “To listen. I _would_ have listened. I asked you to talk to me. _You_ said there wasn’t anything to talk about.”

“And I was wrong. We do have something to talk about, Harry. Us. And...and more. I just...I got scared and I couldn’t find the words but I’m trying now. I need you. Please.”

Harry visibly wavered. Granger clenched her fist and even Weasley, who was scarfing down a second plate, paused his feeding to glance over at them. Draco barely noticed, he didn’t dare look away until Harry spoke.

“I can’t,” Harry said firmly. “I...I can’t do this anymore, Draco. It’s bloody awful and it hurts and somehow, I’m always left wondering what I did wrong. So, no. I’m sorry but this is what you wanted, right?”

“Harry…”

_“Harry!”_

Granger’s fists hit the table, surprising everyone including herself. “Sorry,” she muttered, flushing furiously as the table stared. Harry blinked at her in confusion but she gathered herself and leaned over a perplexed Weasley to hiss at him. “Listen to him,” she ordered. “This is important!”

“What...why...how do you even...” Harry went from honest bewilderment to visible annoyance as he darted between the two of them. And then he threw his arms up in defeat. "Whatever, I’m out of here.” He extricated himself from the table and bench, got up and proceeded to storm off.

_If he leaves, it’s over._

Somehow, he just knew it in his bones. If Harry turned away from him now, they would never fix this. He would never be a part of Draco’s life or the baby’s. And that thought terrified him more than anything else in the world.

He was up and out of his seat at once, almost vaulting over the Gryffindor table in his haste to block Harry’s path.

“Get out of my way,” Harry growled.

“Not until you hear me out,” Draco replied firmly.

“Malfoy, get out of my way!”

And now, they were shouting. Wonderful. That would make for a calm, reasonable discussion, wouldn’t it?

“I can’t!” Draco yelled back. “You need to hear this, Potter! I haven’t come this far to fall back!”

The other Eighth Years were staring now, some of them craning back in their seats to catch a look. Harry’s fists clenched. He looked like he was seriously considering going for his wand. Draco braced himself, even as one hand slid discreetly to his stomach in a bid for protection.

 _It’s fine,_ he told himself. The baby. He wasn’t sure anymore. _He won’t hurt us. He would never..._

“Fine!” Harry burst out. “Whatever. Just...say what you have to say so we can get this over with!”

There. There it was. Draco’s fist clenched. A familiar lump of fear settled in his throat.

“Well?” Harry challenged. “Go on then.”

“I…” His throat was closing up. Panic crept up on him, blurring the edges of his vision. “Harry, I-I’m…”

_Shit._

Harry seemed to have reached the end of his rope too. “Really?” he snapped. His fingers went up to wrench at his hair. “This again?! It’s not funny anymore!”

Merlin help him, now what? All this and he _still_ couldn’t say it! Instinctively, he turned to Granger for support, only to find her on her feet, furiously mouthing ‘ _write it down, write it down, write it down’_ to him.

_Write it down._

Salazar, of course!

 **“Quill!”** He whirled back to a flabbergasted Harry. “I...I need a quill.”

“Good for you,” Harry retorted.

“Potter, stop being difficult! I’m trying here!” Draco snapped back. He was reaching breaking point, he just knew it. “Do you have one or not?”

“Why would I bring a quill to dinner?”

He could think of at least one good reason right now. Draco turned to Granger. “Really?” he barked, when she gave him a guilty look and spread her hands. “ _You_ don’t have a quill?!”

“I left my bag in the Room!”

“Oi!” Weasley spoke up over the din, because why bloody not. The whole table was in an uproar now, openly gawking and whispering among themselves — it was only a matter of time before they all threw their two Knuts in. “What the bloody hell’s going on?”

Fuck it. Fuck it all.

Draco turned to Weasley, who had the good sense to shrink back. He had a plate piled high in front of him — a small mound of peas.

Peas.

“Weasley,” Draco snapped. “I need your plate.”

“What?!” Weasley yelped. Granger just gaped and Harry had started rubbing his temples and muttering about how he should have stayed upstairs.

Draco didn’t care. At this point, _fuck_ sanity. He only had one idea left and if this was it, so be it. He grabbed Weasley’s plate, turned a deaf ear to his protests _(my peas!)_ and set it firmly in front of him. He could still hear Harry waffling behind him, clearly wondering whether to leave or stay.

“Pay attention, Potter,” he muttered. “I promised my mother I’d never cast this spell in polite company again.”

The last time he did this he was twelve and attending an unspeakably dull formal dinner party at the Manor. Blaise started it, really. There Draco was, just pushing his peas around and minding his own business. Then the blighter flicked his wand and suddenly the peas were rearranging to spell out the word _tosspot._ Of course, being twelve year old boys, they both thought it was hilarious and so they’d spent the remainder of the evening, slowly upping the ante. Mother was gracious enough to ignore them for a large part of it but when Draco’s peas spelled out _wank stain_ and Blaise’s carrots cheerfully proclaimed him a _knob gobbler_ , she dragged them both to his room by their ears and...well, long story short, neither he nor Blaise had ever dared attempt the spell again.

If there was a worse way to herald his child’s existence, Draco couldn’t think of it. He just dearly hoped Mother never found out about this.

But it was better than nothing. And work with it, he would. Harry was coming over now, reluctantly but still. Draco pulled out his wand, aimed it at the plate and thought the words loud and clear in his head.

_You’re having a baby._

_You’re having a baby._

_You’re_ having _a_ baby _._

The spell flared. The peas moved, swarming the plate as they rearranged themselves into unmistakable letters. And all around them, people blinked in stupefied silence.

“Really?” Grange was the first to speak, and she sounded aghast. “You’re doing this with _peas?!”_

“Do you have a better idea?” Draco demanded. At any rate, it was out, for better or worse. He had done his bit. _Finally._ Now it was up to Harry. Harry, who was hovering behind him, still reluctant and put out, but clearly intrigued enough to stay.

“Go on. Read,” Draco ordered, pointing to the plate. “This isn’t how I wanted to break it to you, Potter. But here we are. I hope we can talk about this once it sinks in.”

Harry looked extremely wary as he made his way over. But after a few tense seconds, he shouldered past Draco and leaned over to read the peas.

“What’s it say?” Finnigan demanded from all the way down at the other end of the table. They were all craning their necks and jostling now, trying to read. Some of the Gryffindors were coming over too, having witnessed the confusion.

Bloody vultures.

Draco ignored them all. The only person he could focus on was Harry.

And Harry...looked more lost than ever.

“Gravy,” he read out in a flat, deadpan voice. "It says you’re having...gravy."

What.

Harry turned to him slowly. There was real, genuine fear in his eyes. “Draco, _are_ you okay?” he ventured helplessly. Fearfully. “Is this a breakdown? Because I...I don’t know what else to think right now.”

His words tuned in and out. Draco stared at the plate in dead, terror invoking silence. The peas stared right back and sure enough they insolently spelled out _you’re having **gravy**. _Of all the bloody, buggering, _rage_ inducing…

_Gravy._

Not _baby._

_Gravy._

“Granger?” Draco intoned with deadly, quiet menace, his eyes still fixed on the taunting peas. _Rage_ curdled inside him. It was no longer explosive. It was cold. It was unforgiving. It was an invocation against the universe itself for mocking him, for pushing him and driving him to insane retribution. And if he _was_ succumbing to a breakdown like Potter had suggested, then Merlin as his witness, he was damn well taking _everything down with him._

Granger removed her face from her hands. “Potion,” she reminded him unhappily. Then she went back to hiding.

The Stomach Settling Draught from Pomfrey. The one that had been interfering with his casting all day.

Ah.

That would explain it.

“Can I have my peas back?” Weasley piped up plaintively. “And some gravy?”

And that was it. His fury boiled over and the dam broke through.

Draco made a sound in his throat that had most of the table scattering away for safety. A wave of magic swept out from him, buoyed by two insane weeks of abject rage and frustration. Several cups shattered. Longbottom’s roast caught fire and Finnigan’s shepherd’s pie exploded.

And Draco turned to Harry Potter, with fire in his eyes, grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him up.

“Potter!” he snarled, “I have something to **tell you** and you are **going to listen!** Do you understand?!”

Harry nodded frantically.

“I. Am. **Pregnant!** It’s **yours!** There, I said it!”

Silence. Deathly silence shrouded the room. He could hear his own voice echoing in his ears, feel thousands of eyes on him. Whatever. Draco pursed his lips and released Harry.

There. Now he knew _._ It was _his_ turn.

“You’re…” Harry blinked and shook his head. “You’re…”

“Wait,” Weasley piped up again. “You’ve been seeing Malfoy?”

Draco was about ready to throw hexes but Harry held up a shaky hand. “Ask Hermione, mate,” he mumbled dazedly, his eyes reflecting a thousand yard stare. “Kind of going through something here.”

“Welcome to the club,” Draco bit out. “It sucks, you’ll love it.”

“You’re…” Harry turned to him again. He shook his head helplessly. “I...I don’t...you’re...really?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Draco hissed dangerously. If Potter had the gall to even _suggest_ …

“I’m sorry.” 

Wait. Wait...what?

Harry swallowed and reached out to take his hands. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I was so angry...and you’ve been...Merlin, Draco. The stress! Are you okay? Is the…”

Oh. Warmth crept up on him suddenly, taking the edge of his anger. Harry looked so...worried for him, for them. How had he ever feared that this man would reject him? He was so good. So very good. Draco should have trusted him from the very beginning.

“We’re fine,” he replied at once, squeezing Harry’s hands in turn. “I promise. Believe me, we’ve dealt with worse.”

“We,” Harry echoed. His eyes drifted to Draco’s stomach. They lit up with quiet, fierce joy and he smiled. “There’s a _baby.”_

“Harry.” Draco squeezed his hands again, bringing his attention back. “We really do need to talk about this. Alone. Can we...”

“I’m afraid your first private discussion on the matter will be with _me_ , Mr Malfoy,” a severe voice spoke from behind him.

Draco stiffened. Harry went pale as a sheet. They turned around, still hand in hand, no doubt sealing their dark fates. Headmistress McGonagall loomed over them, mouth pinched and eyes sparking. Behind her, the entire student body thronged, clearly twitching to get the scandal mills working overtime.

“You two,” McGonagall hissed, sounding utterly livid. “My office. _Now.”_

* * *

“...making a spectacle of yourselves like that! A fine example for the younger students, to be sure! You _train_ most of them, Mr Potter! And you, Mr Malfoy. I would have thought, you at least, would have a sense of propriety…”

Draco winced and slunk down in his seat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Minerva McGonagall so wroth. The witch wasn’t usually one for shouting — even the infamous Dragon Incident of First Year had only pulled a disapproving glare and a few hundred House Points from her — but apparently this time, they’d gone and broken her. At least he could draw a little comfort from the fact that she seemed more upset by the method of his announcement rather than the news itself.

Still, it wasn’t exactly pleasant. His ears were ringing, he'd missed dinner and despite the relief of finally getting the truth off his chest, there was still the aftermath to deal with. The news would spread through the castle like Fiendfyre, if it hadn’t already. There would be gossip and speculation and eventually, the Prophet would get wind of it. He hadn’t even thought about breaking the news to Mother and then there was the matter of Harry’s adopted family. He could only speculate that the Weasleys would react about as well as McGonagall...

A hand wrapped around his, jerking him out of his thoughts. Draco started and looked up. Harry smiled reassuringly and pressed a gentle kiss to his fingers.

“Mr **Potter!”**

Harry winced and dropped his hand at once. “Professor,” he spoke up, sounding quiet but firm. “I realise we handled this...badly and we’re really, really sorry about it. But could Draco and I please have a moment?”

Draco slunk even further in his chair, if such a thing was possible. McGonagall eyed them both with steely suspicion, but Harry met her gaze frankly.

“Very well,” she intoned after a tense spell of silence. “I suppose I should address the students — no doubt they have several questions after your little display. You two may speak here and you _will_ return to your Common Room before curfew. We will discuss punishments — if any — tomorrow.”

She turned on her heel and swept from the room. Draco watched warily as she paused at the doors for a moment.

“Oh and, if I haven’t said it before...congratulations.”

And with that, she was gone, the door shutting after her and the staircase sliding into place.

Draco sighed and let his head drop back against the chair. Finally. They were alone. He didn’t think he’d ever been this exhausted.

“How do you feel?” Harry asked, taking his hand again.

Draco managed a weak chuckle and swept a hand over his eyes. “Like I got chewed up and spat out by a Hippogriff. You?”

“I’m okay. I think.” Harry chuckled too, and shook his head. “I guess it’s still sinking in.” He turned to Draco with a soft, hopeful smile. “Tell me it’s true again?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s true. You’re going to be a father. Our baby is eight weeks along, very opinionated and loves those horrid watermelon beans you enjoy.” His heart flew when Harry’s grin widened in unmistakable delight. “I can tell she loves you, you know,” he said softly. “There’s a...feeling whenever you’re around. She seems content in your presence.” He hadn’t noticed it before but now, now that he finally had a moment with Harry, he could finally focus on that curious, blissful sense deep inside him. That wasn’t him, he knew it. That...that was her.

“She?” Harry sounded awed. “Do you...do you already know…”

“No, but I have a feeling.”

They lapsed back in surprisingly comfortable silence. Harry’s fingers tangled with his and he marvelled at how...easy it all was. He’d worried and fretted over this moment for so long and now that it was here, it almost felt unreal.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Harry asked suddenly.

Draco scoffed. “I told you several times. It’s not my fault you’re obtuse.”

“Oh yes, you did a stellar job,” Harry retorted dryly. “What with the mumbling and the snitches and fleeing from the sight of me. It’s a wonder I didn’t catch on.”

“Exactly. Let’s hope this child doesn’t inherit your single brain cell.”

Of course his snarky attempt to change the subject fell flat. Harry smiled and nudged him, obviously expecting a real answer. “Draco,” he chided. “I told you I wanted to be with you. I want everything with you. This child is...a miracle but I have _always_ wanted you. What made you think you couldn’t tell me?”

What, indeed. Draco sighed and leaned into Harry’s touch, letting him draw him closer. “I suppose I’m not used to good things happening to me,” he murmured. “If you didn’t...I didn’t want the baby to know how that feels, I suppose.”

“Oh, Draco.” Harry pulled him closer, carding a careful hand through his hair and pressing a kiss to his head. “Please tell me you know different now. Please tell me you know that I would never, ever leave you. Both of you.”

He did know that. Deep down, he knew this was real. And yet, he didn’t dare tempt fate by saying it out loud. Some fears...they would stay with him forever. But having Harry here made it bearable.

“Draco, listen to me.” Harry pulled him up and cupped his face in gentle hands. “I love you. I want a life with you and our child. This...this is it for me. I know we started a certain way and we have a ton of history to get past, but I’ve known how I feel about you for a really long time. And you will _never_ have to do this alone, I swear. You may not be used to good things but...you’re going to have to get used to that.”

Damn it. He could feel his vision blurring and so help him, he _wasn’t_ going to cry all over Harry like a hysterical mess. He did have some dignity left. So, he leaned against his chest, hiding against him and letting the comfort of Harry talking about their future together wash over him. He spoke of big things like applying to Hogwarts as the new DADA Professor (assuming McGonagall ever forgave them, of course) and mundane, little things like clearing a drawer out for Draco’s things at Godric’s Hollow. And all of it was a balm to Draco’s bruised and battered soul.

On an impulse, he leaned up and brushed his lips against Harry’s. The kiss was sweet and gentle, with none of the fierce, urgent passion of their previous encounters. There was intimacy here, though and a promise of things to come.

“I’d do anything for you, Draco,” Harry whispered against his lips. “Tell me what you need right now.”

 _Just this,_ Draco thought. Merlin forbid anything that nauseatingly sentimental ever came out of his mouth. He would never live it down. “Treacle tart,” he supplied instead, burrowing into Harry’s warm, strong arms. “Been craving one all day.”

“Treacle…” Harry laughed, trailing off into chuckles. Draco had half a mind to remind him these cravings were only beginning and were at least partially his fault, and then something was being pressed into his hand.

A single treacle tart, sticky and sickly sweet, thoughtfully wrapped up in a napkin.

Draco stared in disbelief. It was exactly what he’d wanted.

Harry laughed again and kissed his forehead. “I grabbed it when I was all mad at you and storming out. I just had this feeling I’d need it.”

Of course. Why was he even surprised, at this point? Draco shook his head and smiled, finally resigning himself to his fate. He was safe, he was loved, his baby was loved...and that was just something he would have to get used to. He wasn’t alone anymore and even though a part of him hardly dared believe it, he did believe Harry. With all his heart.

He drifted off, with strong arms holding him, a hand gently cradling his stomach and a soft voice whispering promises of the future. There was still one thing left to do though, and he wasn’t putting this off for anything.

“I love you too,” he mumbled, drifting in and out of sleep.

“I know,” Harry murmured. “I know you do. Go to sleep, okay? I’ve got you.”

And Draco did, knowing for once, that everything would be just fine from now on.


End file.
